


Tomorrow

by hellcsweetie



Series: The Food Of Love [1]
Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24323902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: The fact that they’re together still manages to catch him off-guard.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Series: The Food Of Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756051
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> The song that's playing throughout the fic (and which also gave it its title and foreword) is Tomorrow, by Shakey Graves.
> 
> It's not a song I associate with Darvey particularly, but I've been listening to it nonstop and literally every time this little scene pops into my head and I just had to write it. Hope you like it :)

_Yeah, but the closest I’ve come to perfection_

_Is when you turned around to steal a kiss_

Harvey’s always liked music in the house, grew up listening to his father practicing or riffing off random snippets of songs he liked. He has jazz albums and a record player both at home and at the office and he plays them often.

So he was glad to find out Donna’s the same. She has an eclectic taste, loves his jazz as much as 80’s ballads, country music and folk tunes. She hums in the shower and sings along to movie soundtracks, especially if they’re ABBA. He doesn’t particularly like most of the songs she picks but he loves how caught up she can get, eyes closed, hips swaying, head nodding, holding an imaginary microphone.

She unfailingly has some playlist on when she does chores, and that’s how he finds her in the kitchen, denim shorts and a relaxed button-up half hidden behind an apron. The living room is surrounded by a heavy guitar and strumming bass and he’s once again glad she convinced him they did need extra speakers.

He crosses over to her, setting his hands on her waist. “Did you finish the proposal?” she asks him softly.

“Mhmm,” he rests his chin on her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Baking cookies,” she replies simply, as if that’s something she did every day. 

Harvey snorts. “Seriously? I’ve never even heard you mention baking cookies.”

“Well, it’s not something I do often,” she concedes, “But I’ve done it before. A few times.”

He grins, amused at her slightly flustered response. “Are you as good at it as you are at cooking? ‘Cause, you know, we can always order some, I saw the bakery around the corner is delivering.”

Donna shakes her head in mock indignation. “Here I was thinking I’d join the quarantine baking trend and do something nice for my husband. But if you don’t want these vanilla, extra chocolate chip and peanut cookies then I can always send them to our neighbors.”

“They have peanuts?”

She nods.

“I love peanuts.”

“I know.”

Harvey grins, “Okay, we can keep them.” Donna smiles and continues with her recipe.

In the silence that follows Harvey finally starts paying closer attention to the song. It’s nice, not his usual style but definitely better than most of what she plays. The guy’s voice is high-pitched and the words don’t follow the rhythm of the chords but it has a nice beat to it. 

The spring sun is shining through the windows, bathing their living room and adjoining kitchen in golden light. It’s 4pm on a Thursday and they’re wearing casual clothes, listening to music and baking. The world seems far away and, right this second, he likes that.

He lets himself drown in the atmosphere, wrapping his arms around her middle and burying his nose into the crook of her neck. She hums and presses closer to him.

He focuses on breathing her in, the fresh scent of her shampoo, the warmth and softness of her skin. They’ve been married for over six months and he’s still surprised by her sometimes, how the light filters through her hair or when he spots a freckle he hadn’t noticed before.

The fact that they’re together still manages to catch him off-guard.

He lays a soft kiss on her shoulder, then another one on her neck. He tightens his hold around her, intentionally squeezing her frame until she squeals a little and her hands fly to his arms to stop him. He snickers and loosens his grip, is content when she keeps her palms on his forearms.

Her thumb rubs against his skin absentmindedly and he can see her eyes closed, a peaceful smile on her lips. She’s so beautiful.

He kisses her neck again, a little more intently now. He’s not trying to start anything, but he wants her to feel his affection. He lays a trail of kisses up her neck, nuzzles her cheek, presses their faces together and breathes her in again. Some days he wants to kiss her senseless, feel her writhing beneath him. Other days he just wants this, feeling her skin on his, her heartbeat, the movement of her chest as she breathes.

Donna chuckles softly. “What’s gotten into you?” He’s being unusual, he knows.

“Nothing, I just...” he trails off, trying to find the right words. “Remembered I could do this.” It sounds simple, and silly, but it’s the truth. The wonder of _Harvey and Donna together_ has far from worn off to him and he doesn’t take it for granted. He regresses sometimes, forgets for a second that she’s his and he’s hers and he doesn’t have to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying something he isn’t sure he can handle her knowing. 

It’s too many years of practice in schooling looks, standing at an appropriate distance, rehearsing words and forcing smiles. He used to do it by heart, knowing when to hold back. It’s a routine they don’t need anymore, but it’s not something you forget, too ingrained into their being and their relationship.

So yeah, sometimes his mind wanders back into those times, that learned behavior, and his brain has to actively work to remind himself of his surroundings, remind himself he knows how she sleeps and how she sounds and how she feels. Remind himself he can remind himself of all that freely now.

In those moments, like this one, he likes touching her, feeling her body next to his. He doesn’t know what exactly triggered this right now but it’s not an instinct he has any need or desire to temper.

He thinks maybe she forgets sometimes too, because at his response she cranes her neck to look at him properly. A hand comes up to tangle in his hair and her sweet smile disappears into a kiss. It’s soft and intentional and filled to the brim with emotion. She gives him a few more kisses, sucking his lower lip gently between hers, then smiles against his lips. 

He ressetles against her neck and she rests her head back on his shoulder, and they just hold each other until the last chords echo around the room. 


End file.
